


Beach Getaway

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action, Blood, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, Mafia AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For small-scale robberies, more than two people is unnecessary, especially for those as skilled as those of the Fake AH Crew.  Sometimes getting shot is all part of the job, something Gavin Free and Ryan Haywood are plenty used to--though hiding out underneath the pier of Los Santos isn't too bad of a perk to go along with it.</p>
<p>(Prompt: Can I badger you for either freewood or r and r connection with the prompt of an evening at the beach (gta verse?)--I went with Freewood but I'll be writing an R&R connection GTA verse later on)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beach Getaway

“Gavin, where the hell are you?”

“Almost there, just a minute more!”

“Hurry up, I—!” Ryan cut off suddenly as gunshots were fired in his direction. A bullet grazed his arm. Letting out a small hiss of displeasure, he ducked around a corner. “I’m under fire here!”

There was no response over the headset from the Brit. Gavin must have shut off the mic, at the very least. Ryan let out a huff, leaning up against the wall, holding his gun tightly. Every now and then, he poked out around the corner to shoot, sometimes managing to take down a cop. It wasn’t enough though, and Ryan knew that reinforcements would be arriving soon. One man against so many cops was not the best matchup, no matter how good Ryan might be. He needed Gavin to get here now.

He leaned out of his cover to shoot, quickly withdrawing back. Too slow. A bullet nailed him in the arm. He hissed at the burning pain, nearly dropping his gun as he pulled back, clutching at his arm with his free hand. Bracing his back against the wall, sure that if he was left here on his own for much longer then he was a goner. There was no way Ryan could shoot well with the pain spreading through his arm like fire, blood running down his skin in rivulets to drip from his fingers. A sight that on any other person would be art to Ryan.

“Gavin, hurry up,” he hissed through gritted teeth, not even sure if the headset picked up his words.

Almost on-cue, the screeching of tires announced the arrival of a motorcycle. Gavin, if Ryan wasn’t mistaken. It had to be, with the pain rendering his arm useless, barely even keeping a grip on his gun. Cautiously, he crept to the edge, peeking around. He wasn’t disappointed. As Gavin broke through the barrier of cops, Ryan left his cover, raising his good arm to gain the Brit’s attention.

“Bloody hell, Ryan! Your arm!” Gavin exclaimed as Ryan swung himself into the seat, settling in behind the other.

Ryan gritted his teeth, allowing his injured limb to dangle rather than hold it in favor of wrapping an arm around Gavin’s waist. No way was he going to fall off the motorcycle when he was so close to getting away, not when he’d had much worse than a single gunshot wound before.

“Drive, Gavin! We’ll talk about it later!” His voice was tense with pain.

Thankfully Gavin listened, and wasted no time in revving the engine and racing out of there. After nearly a minute of rushing through the streets, Ryan’s bad arm flailing in the wind, he finally dropped the gun and withdrew his arm to press it against himself. Later it’d be a chore to wash out the blood, but at least it was no longer flapping about like an injured fish in a pool of sharks. He could get a new gun later.

It was a miracle when they actually got away from the police, with Gavin’s nonexistent driving skills and accident prone nature. But it was better the Brit take care of the getaway vehicle than try and pull a solo armed robbery, and with Ryan’s arm as it was there was no way they could switch places. He was relieved when the sound of sirens faded into the distance and they arrived at the shoreline.

The sun was beginning to set, casting brilliant colors over the waves in the distance. It was a sight that Ryan appreciated, distracting him from the pain in his arm. He held it close to him, knowing that his shirt would be ruined after this was over, be he didn’t want to risk some passerby seeing the wound and getting suspicious. As trigger-happy as he tended to be, he wasn’t fond of the idea of having unnecessary deaths on his hands because of his own carelessness. Geoff would no doubt give him an earful because of it.

Neither man spoke, not until they were beneath the pier where they decided was the best place to convene before heading back to check in with the others. Ryan sank to his knees, holding his arm carefully up so as not to get sand in the wound, dropping his bag and shrugging off his jacket in the same motion.

“Christ, Ryan…” Gavin breathed out as he dropped to kneel beside him as Ryan pulled off his mask.

Ryan shook his head, digging around in his bag with his good arm. “I’ve had worse,” he murmured, pulling out a few things. They had all had worse. A single gunshot wound in the arm was nothing to write home about—or bother their Boss with, for that matter.

He lifted the bottle of antiseptic to his mouth, intending to open it with his teeth. Gavin’s hands closed over his stopping him. When Ryan raised a questioning brow at him, Gavin held his gaze. “Let me do it for you,” he said quietly, yet in such a firm determined voice that it was obvious he expected an argument from the older man.

Which was silly. Ryan was smart enough to accept help when it was offered.

Chuckling, Ryan surrendered the bottle into Gavin’s hands. “Go for it, Gav,” he said, amusement in his voice despite the pain he still felt. That disappeared quickly as Gavin washed the wound with antiseptic, replaced by a small hiss at the sting. It was a good sting, he knew, but it stung nevertheless. Yet that didn’t stop Gavin from wincing as he worked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he closed the bottle and set it aside, picking up the bandages.

Ryan rolled his eyes at the apology. “Don’t worry about it. Better than getting an infection.”

His only response from the Brit was a terse nod as he continued, putting pressure on the wound and wrapping it up. After the wound was finally taken care of, Ryan sat back, leaning against one of the poles beneath the pier. “Well aside from getting shot, all in all that was a pretty successful job, and we made off with about $900,” Ryan said, nudging the bag with his foot. $900 and some change. He hadn’t had a chance to count it yet.

Gavin frowned. “All that for only nine hundred bloody dollars.” He glanced down at Ryan’s bandaged arm, and his frown turned into a grimace. “I should have gotten there soon, Ry. I’m sorry.”

Oh no, he was not about to let Gavin feel guilty for a little injury like this. “Hey, you know how it is, considering what we do. At least I’m alive right now, yeah?” Ryan pointed out. Being so involved in the Fake AH Crew—the name of their little gang—death was a very real possibility.

The reminder didn’t seem to help Gavin feel any better, and the lad looked away from him. “Yeah…” Alright, perhaps reminding the other of the imminence of death was not the best route to take.

Carefully, Ryan reached forward, placing his hands on Gavin’s shoulders. The other gave him a bemused look, but before he could ask anything, he turned the other around to face the ocean and tugged the Brit back to rest against him. “Look at that. How often do we get to just sit back and enjoy a sunset?” he murmured into Gavin’s ear, wrapping an arm loosely about his waist. He rested his chin on the other’s shoulder, smirking at the shiver that ran through the younger man.

“Not very often,” he admitted, relaxing back against Ryan. The sand shifted underneath them. No doubt later they’d have a difficult time of getting the sand out of their clothes, but at the moment, that wasn’t important.

Ryan pressed his lips to Gavin’s neck, earning himself another shiver. “Geoff probably won’t be expecting us back for a few more hours,” he murmured, tone innocent, but his lips dragging over Gavin’s skin.

Gavin let out a small gasp, almost inaudible except for their proximity, his hand curling over Ryan’s.

“Probably not.”


End file.
